


Ho, Ho, Hold Me Tight

by meh_guh



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Christmas, Dirty Talk, M/M, Past sexual encounter with a priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis and Porthos are trapped in a <del>Canadian Shack</del> <i>French Cabin</i> on Christmas Eve. They pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ho, Ho, Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_is_a_freak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_is_a_freak/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, dude!

'Well this is a fine way to spend Christmas!' Aramis knocked his boots against the door frame to get rid of the worst of the snow. Porthos had managed to get a small fire started in the grate, so Aramis stripped his sopping gloves and crowded close against Porthos's squatting form to try and regain some feeling.

'You'd prefer to spend it out there with five dead Spaniards?' Porthos grinned up at him as Aramis arched himself over Porthos to get closer to the fire and Porthos's body heat.

'I'd _prefer_ ,' Aramis, having managed to get the blood back to his freezing fingers, stood back to strip his outer layers. 'To be in a large bed with an even larger glass of brandy and some friendly company.'

Wet uniform now removed, Aramis looked around for something to drape it over to dry out. Porthos's gear was hung over the sole rickety chair in the cabin, so Aramis commandeered the table.

Once his cloak and trousers and shirt had been arranged to his satisfaction, he started hunting around for something to use to clean and dry his pistols.

'Moth-eaten sheet on the bed,' Porthos suggested from his spot by the fire. 'And I can't do anything about the bed, but I did pack a bottle from Athos's stash.'

'Perfect!' Aramis beamed as Porthos brandished the dark green bottle, seized the bed sheet and retreated back to the fire. He settled on the floor, back-to-back with Porthos as he made sure his guns would survive this mission.

Porthos was a long, solid line of heat against Aramis's chilled skin; blessedly uninjured for once and a calming touch as Aramis's hands worked over the surface of his guns, then Porthos's too. By the time he'd satisfied himself the guns were as good as they could get, Porthos's fire had warmed the room to a comfortable level. The cabin they'd found was solid and well-insulated against the storm outside, if a little sparse in the furniture department.

All up, Aramis thought as he relaxed into Porthos, it wasn't a half-bad way to spend Christmas.

'How long d'you think it'll last?' Porthos's voice rumbled through Aramis's chest from the contact.

Aramis glanced at the shuttered window. 'Not too long, I hope. We didn't exactly bring rations for a long stay.'

Porthos chuckled and twisted to pass Aramis the brandy. 'You bring a pack of cards?'

'Hardly,' Aramis sipped, then took a hearty swig when he realised Porthos must have found Athos's _special_ stash. 'I'm not becoming a victim of your rank cheating.'

Porthos's elbow jabbed into Aramis, but he was laughing too.

'All right, then,' Porthos shifted and curled around Aramis to grab the brandy. 'Trading stories?'

'Certainly,' Aramis smiled and resettled Porthos's arm around his waist. 'Stories on what subject? The battlefield seems a poor choice for such a nice setting. Stories of our childhood pranks, perhaps? I recall a particularly entertaining event which resulted in the local priest banning goats from-'

Porthos growled and pinched Aramis's waist. 'Stories of the bedroom, you ungodly tease.'

'Ah?' Aramis affected surprise and reached back to palm Porthos's cock; the hot, hard line of it already a little damp inside Porthos's dry smallclothes. 'Why, Porthos, is this really the time or the place?'

Aramis laughed as Porthos wrestled him to the floor, pinning him with his greater bulk. Porthos mock-glowered down and swigged from the brandy again, then leaned down to press his lips to Aramis's. When Aramis opened his mouth, Porthos let some of the brandy spill into the kiss.

'Mmm...' Aramis let his eyes drift shut as Porthos shifted down and dragged his stubble over Aramis's throat. 'A little to the left...'

Porthos followed Aramis's directions for a few minutes, then he gripped Aramis's wrists and leaned over him. 'You're supposed to be telling me a story.'

Aramis thought for a moment, then gave a triumphant laugh. 'Shall I tell you of my first time learning the pleasures of the Greeks?'

Porthos's answering grin and the way he thrust just a little against Aramis were answer enough.

Aramis hummed and reached out for the brandy, Porthos letting his wrists go at the first tug. Aramis sat up only long enough to take a healthy swig before settling back down on the floor, the fire crackling three feet to his left and Porthos solid and heavy on top of him, fingers flexing over Aramis's ribs.

'It was before I joined the garrison,' Aramis cocked his legs a little wider around Porthos's. 'But I was on my way; travelling up through Bordeaux in hopes of finding Paris and adventure.'

'Did well, then,' Porthos chuckled, and he started drawing patterns on Aramis's belly. 'Top marks.'

'Oh yes,' Aramis arched up into Pothos's fingers, vaguely recognising a few patterns as thief signs he'd caught sight of on the edges of the Court of Miracles. 'But my first victorious adventure was courtesy of a remarkably handsome priest in an abandoned barn outside Coulombiers when he found me... polishing my sword.'

Porthos let out a guffaw and shifted so he could curl a hand over Aramis's cock. 'I just bet you were. Greedy bugger.'

Aramis pushed up, but Porthos's other hand closed around his hip and pressed him back into the packed earth floor.

'Porthos...' he tried wriggling. 'At least get me the blanket to lie on.'

Porthos let out a mock-annoyed breath and reached over for Aramis's discarded sheet. 'Shift up.'

Aramis sat up to lay the sheet between his buttocks and the floor, then settled back with his hands behind his head.

'Happy now, princess?' Porthos grumbled, taking the opportunity to have another swig.

'Ecstatic, my dearest, if you would fetch the oil before we resume,' Aramis gave Porthos his best smile, relishing the view as Porthos rose and rescued the little bottle from its habitual place in Aramis's ammunition pouch.

Porthos skinned his smallclothes off, settled the oil in easy reach and lay down on top of Aramis again.

'Now,' he said in a low tone. 'Where were we?'

'I believe your hand was occupied,' Aramis said, pulling one hand from where it pillowed his head so he could make a grand and haughty gesture at his erection. 'I certainly couldn't find my train of thought if you don't reset the scene properly.'

With a growl, Porthos dragged Aramis's smallclothes off and gripped his cock again. 'Anything else, your majesty?'

'That should do for now,' Aramis closed his eyes to try to remember that long-ago day. 'I was less than careful about my privacy, and taken quite aback when I heard the priest's sharp breath.'

Porthos's hand slipped up and down Aramis with only the most teasing of touches and he made an encouraging noise.

'There I was, shirt thrown over a bale of hay, trousers and smalls around my ankles and my hand on my cock,' Aramis rolled his hips into Porthos's grip. 'And staring at me with his mouth open, a beautiful young man wearing the Cloth. I stared at him, too surprised to move, and it slowly dawned on me where his gaze was aimed.'

'Can't really blame 'im,' Porthos grinned and tightened his grip briefly. 'Very pretty sight you musta been.'

'Oh, very pretty indeed,' Aramis concurred. 'And when I realised how much he was enjoying the show, of course I resumed the action.'

'Woulda been downright rude not to,' Porthos said, more than a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Aramis lifted one knee to stroke it along Porthos's biceps. 'And, being a gentleman himself, the priest put his shock to the side and came forward to assist me.'

'Yeah?' Porthos paused. 'Assist how, exactly?'

Aramis reached out for the bottle of oil and pressed it into Porthos's hand. 'First of all, he went to his knees between mine.'

'Sittin' on a hay bale, were ya?' Porthos tipped a little oil onto Aramis's groin and started smoothing it around. 'Priest between your legs staring at your pretty cock?'

Aramis hummed his agreement and let his hand drift down to rub at his nipple. 'He reached for me with the softest hand I'd ever felt-'

'Scribin' gets fewer calluses than tuggin' on a cow's tits, does it?' Porthos leaned forward to nip at Aramis's hip. 'Or is it just none of your lovely milkmaids ever leant a hand?'

'...And then he took me in his mouth,' Aramis stroked his foot along Porthos's flank, shifting his hips on every upstroke so he was thrusting gently up into Porthos's hand. 'And I spent immediately.'

Aramis smiled at the memory of the priest's shocked face, his own stuttering apologies and the slowly-growing smirk as the priest had recovered.

'He bade me remove the rest of my clothing and lie back,' Aramis continued as Porthos kept up his teasing strokes. 'And, eager to make up for my lack of control, I followed all his directions.'

'Last time you ever did that, I'll wager,' Porthos muttered, pressing a kiss to Aramis's sternum before sitting back on his heels to stare. 'What did your priest tell you to do?'

Aramis felt a thrill in his belly. 'First he told me to part my legs and let him cover me.'

Porthos settled a hand on each of Aramis's already-spread thighs and settled back over him. 'Then?'

'Then,' Aramis swallowed and tilted his head towards Porthos's. 'Then he kissed me.'

Porthos obliged, taking control of the kiss by sliding his hand into Aramis's hair and holding him in place. He trailed his lips over to Aramis's ear, then down the tense line of his throat before returning to stare at Aramis from three inches' distance. 'Then?'

Aramis closed his legs around Porthos's waist. 'Then he told me to relax; that he was going to show me the glory and perfection of my body's design. I told him I already knew, but he put a finger on my lips-'

Porthos's finger settled over Aramis's lips, so he parted them and sucked at the tip before gasping out 'and he brought a tin of salve out from his satchel.'

Obligingly, Porthos pulled his finger out of Aramis's mouth and held up the oil.

'He scooped some out,' Aramis watched as Porthos tipped a little oil into his palm. 'And slipped his hand beneath me to press at my entrance.'

'How many fingers?' Porthos asked, and his eyes were jet black with desire when Aramis looked up.

'He started with one,' Aramis said, and he breathed out a long breath as Porthos's finger breached him. 'I was so startled I yelled, and he had to slap his hand over my mouth until my heart slowed.'

'Not gagging you tonight,' Porthos said after Aramis had paused for a moment. 'Pretty as it is, you're telling the story.'

Aramis chuckled. 'It was unlike anything I'd ever felt, and I wasn't certain whether I liked it or not, so he distracted me by rubbing his thumb against the edge of my entrance and against my testicles.'

Porthos did as directed, warm hand significantly bigger and warmer than the priest's had been as he slid one solitary finger in and out of Aramis's arse. Aramis groaned and grabbed for the back of Porthos's head to try and pull him into a kiss, but Porthos just smirked at him and kept his arm braced.

'It took a long time before I'd loosened up enough for a second finger,' Aramis said, trying not to whine as Porthos kept his gentle rhythm up. 'But when he slid that second finger into me, I knew that I liked it.'

Porthos added a little more oil, then pressed in with two fingers, a line of concentration between his brows as he crooked his fingers and searched for the special spot.

'Oh yes!' Aramis pressed down into Porthos's hand as hard as he could. 'Oh, oh, yes! He pressed his soft fingers into me and circled that marvellous place and I came again, without even touching my cock...'

Porthos clamped his free hand around the base of Aramis's erection. 'You're not nineteen any more, Aramis. I'm not trusting in your recovery time enough to let you come yet.'

Aramis gave a frustrated groan, but Porthos didn't move except to continue his long, slow strokes inside.

'When...' Aramis licked his lips and tried to regain his composure. 'When I was distracted, he slipped a third finger in, and in my petit mort haze, he found me much easier to loosen. I remember feeling nothing but pleasant aftershocks as he flexed his hand and slicked me up until I felt like water.'

Porthos added a third finger and spread them. 'Your poor priest. You've come all over him twice, and he hasn't even felt your hand on his cock.'

'No,' Aramis slid a hand along Porthos's arm. 'But he did taste my lips and press his hands where no man had ever done so.'

Porthos's hand worked inside him, calluses adding a thrill of friction with every stroke.

'He fingered me until my manhood rose again-'

'Take long?' Porthos chuckled as Aramis pouted.

'He slicked himself up,' Aramis shot Porthos a pointed look, and Porthos upended the rest of the oil on himself. 'And slid in smooth as silk.'

Porthos shifted to his knees and grasped Aramis by the hips, pulled Aramis into his lap and Aramis's legs over his shoulder. He lined his well-oiled cock up against Aramis and pressed inside.

Aramis let out a long groan and came in a pulsing wave that felt endless. Porthos held still until Aramis flopped back to the floor, then he withdrew and manhandled Aramis onto his stomach.

'You OK?' Porthos growled into Aramis's ear.

Aramis, too blissed-out to respond, pulled his knees under himself so his arse was at a better angle for Porthos and settled his cheek on his folded hands.

Porthos chuckled and slid back in in one long stroke. He closed his hands around Aramis's hips for leverage and gave a handful of gloriously powerful thrusts before he spilled, the rush of warmth chasing the last of Aramis's chill away.

Porthos pulled out and collapsed next to Aramis, breathing hard.

'Mmm...' Aramis gathered himself enough to straighten out before he cramped in place. 'We should endeavour to get stranded in the wilderness more often.'

Porthos snorted and threw an arm over his eyes. 'Hardly the wilderness when there's such a well-maintained cabin.'

Aramis rolled over and hooked his chin over Porthos's biceps. 'Speaking of which, shall we retire to the bed? Your fire's likely to die overnight and the floor is less than comfortable.'

Porthos lifted his arm to glare at Aramis. 'You've frequently slept on worse.'

'Ah,' Aramis climbed to his feet with only a little stiffness. 'But never when a better option was available.'

Porthos let Aramis pull him to his feet, then over to the bed. It smelled musty, but the frame was sound and the blankets sufficient, so they slipped in and curled around each other.

'Joyeaux Noël, Porthos,' Aramis whispered as the day's exertions caught up.

'You too,' came the sleepy response, and then nothing but sweet dreams.


End file.
